


Redefinition of an Irken

by A_Blazing_Melody



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: But also still v gay they just don't know it, M/M, the slowest burn you've ever seen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Blazing_Melody/pseuds/A_Blazing_Melody
Summary: The kids have grown up now. It's been five years since they met and while Dib chooses to celebrate the occassion, complete with a gift and an uncomfortably sincere expression of appreciation, Zim finds himself in a confrontation with his leaders, his entire identity ripped from him in a span of a few short minutes. (Minor swearing and some heavy topics, warnings will be provided.)





	1. November 15th, Monday

**Author's Note:**

> I love seeing reviews and I'm super open to criticism I love improving my writing!

November 15th, Monday

Dib took slow, deliberate footsteps toward the door of the library, walking with a confidence he didn't feel. He looked around, squeezing the book he held tighter to his chest.  
There was something… unnerving about giving someone a gift they weren't expecting. But he was determined. This was important to him, regardless of how his friend felt about it.  
It was with that sentiment that he took a deep breath and headed into the library.  
He didn't even bother looking to see where Zim was-- they had a little table in the corner that they almost always sat at when they met up before or after school-- he just headed straight for the corner.  
And there was Zim, completely oblivious to his surroundings with his eyes rapidly scanning the pages of some book he was reading. It wasn't until Dib leaned on the table right next to him that he noticed there was someone else in the room with him. He looked up at Dib and blinked.  
“Oh, hello.”  
“Don't act like you're surprised I'm here, I asked you to meet me,” Dib laughed a little, peering over at the pages of the others book. Zim quickly closed it and stood up.  
“Did you need something in particular, Dib-thing or did you just wish for the presence of the great Zim?” The words were sincere enough, but the playful look that Dib had grown accustomed to long ago was still in the alien’s eyes.  
Rolling his eyes, Dib shook his head. “Actually I wanted to, uh, well, give you something.” Zim’s antenna twitched a bit, only barely giving away his surprise, but he didn't say anything. It seemed, however that he noticed the large book in Dibs arms, still kind of shielding his body, giving away how nervous he was.  
“I don't know if you remember, but as of today you've been here on Earth for five years. Human years, obviously since that's what I measure time in but, uh. Yeah. And I don't know if you really care, but. Well. I do. Even if we spent the first year or so kind of trying to kill each other,” the boy laughed a little and Zim smirked at him, obviously still curious but, shockingly, patiently listening to everything he had to say. “I'm still really glad you're here.”  
There was a pause as Dib released his grip on the book in his arms, “Don't be a jerk about this now, but… I know you've kinda always been into drawing and art and stuff and I was really grateful that you were finally willing to show me some of it. So… I don’t know, I wanted to give you this,” he finally blurted, maybe a little too forcefully holding the object out at arms length for Zim to take.  
The alien looked properly startled now now, his already big eyes got even bigger and he tilted his head. A short moment passed before Zim looked away from the book and up at Dib, whose arms were still outstretched, but now he looked a little embarrassed. Zim just pointed at the book and said. “This is… A gift then. For Zim?”  
Dib nodded.  
With a surprising gentleness, the Irken took the book out of his hands. Slowly he pressed his hand against the cover, then opened it from the middle.  
“A sketchbook,” he said. There wasn't much of an expression on his face, but Dib could hear the slightly high tone of his voice. He spoke in a kind of… Soft way, that Dib rarely heard. It made the human smile and all the tension that had been in him before drifted away. Somehow, in spite of all the differences in them, he understood the much larger meaning behind such a small gift.  
“Yeah. If you're willing, I'd like to see more of what you make. I think it's really cool that my best friend is an artist. Maybe that's silly--”  
Zims face still had that strange wondrous look to it, like he didn't quite believe what he was holding. He interrupted Dib with a much firmer tone. “No, Dib-thing,” he looked up again. “I will never dispute that you humans are silly creatures,” he said with a bit of a smirk, “This, however, is a very… kind gesture. Thank you.  
Dib couldn't help the huge, silly smile that grew on his face. “Yeah, of course, I, uh, I've gotta go home now, Gaz got on my case about the dishes this morning, do you want to walk with me or?”  
Zim picked up his book and pushed his chair in, making that same smug face as he responded, “I will grace you with my presence as we make the journey home, yes.”  
“I hate you, you obnoxious little weirdo.”  
The two did not walk far together, the had to seperate just a few blocks from the school. Dib turned away and waved with his back to his friend, calling over his shoulder, “see ya tomorrow.”  
Zim stood there for a moment, watching Dib walk away, putting headphones over his head now that he was alone, his backpack falling over just one shoulder, with the collar of his trench coat turned up on just one side because the silly human never bothered fixing it.  
Something about the image made Zim smile. He hugged his new sketchbook tighter to his chest. Suddenly he turned on his heel and started running toward his house. He knew exactly what he wanted the first picture in this book to be.  
As soon as he got home he headed straight for his lab. He waited impatiently for it to take him down to the basement and was already opening the book as he left it, hurrying to his desk. Immediately he reached for his drafting pencil and his hand flew over the page, making light, angular marks on the page in a haphazard order. His focus was entirely taken by the image in his head.  
Something like three hours must have passed by the time the alien put the pencil down. The drawing wasn't complete, he still wanted to ink and color it, but the draft was done.  
He stood and looked at it, slowly starting to smile. Yes, this he would show to Dib. This he was proud of.  
With a quiet sigh, Zim turned around, forcing himself to take the necessary break to be able to come back to his piece later, but before he could even take a step away, the giant monitor lit up.  
The alien jumped, jerking back around the face the screen in a stiff salute-- there were only two people who had ever or could ever contact him through his computer.  
“My- My Tallests!!”  
“Invader Zim,” Red started, addressing him coldly. It undeniably scared the smaller Irken. Nothing of the usually mocking ruler’s voice was left, only a cruel, dismissive, anger. “I have a question for you, Zim.”  
“Sir…?”  
It was Purple who spoke now, the same change in attitude as his partner had. “What have you done in your entire, pathetic little life to earn yourself the honorable title of ‘Irken Invader?”  
The question hung in the air of the lab like a miasma of thick gas. Zim struggled to breathe through it. “I don’t… understand, sir--”  
“You have failed at even the simplest of tasks presented to you,” Red said sharply, cutting him off almost just to prove that he could. “Even this little ‘Earth…’ a true Invader would have been ashamed of taking five days to conquer such a weak people. You haven’t accomplished the task in five Earth years.”  
Purple continued, “We cannot allow such incompetence to mar the title of Invader, or allow your failures to impact the appearance and reputation of the Great Irken Empire.”  
“We are revoking your status as Invader, Zim. Not only that, but we are revoking your rights as an Irken citizen. We refuse to let you damage the great name of Irk any further. You are not an Invader. You are no longer even an Irken. You are, and will forever be alone on a planet of those who pose a life threatening danger to you. This is your punishment.”  
“If you ever attempt to contact anyone on Irk, or under the flag of the Irken Empire, we will hunt you down and put an end to your useless life. This will be the consequence of any attempt to harm us, the Empire, or in any way try to endanger the secrecy of the outside universe to the planet of Earth. Earth is where you will stay until the day you die. Goodbye, Zim.” With a tiny click, the transmission was cut off. Zim was left to stare at his own reflection in the empty darkness of the screen.


	2. November 18th, Thursday

The first day, the human was proud of himself, thinking only of how he’d antagonize the alien when he showed up late, no doubt with his sketchbook in hand already used the night before.  
But that playful smugness faded throughout the day and was completely gone by the second morning. The sight of Zim’s desk, empty again sent a twinge of unease through him. As the day had drawn on it only compounded on itself, leaving him confused and a little on guard by the time he made it home. And that was only the first day. By now he was starting to come loose at the seams.  
They didn’t go this long without seeing each other. There was always something. An appearance after school, an antagonizing note left on Dib’s window or computer.  
This inaction was unnerving. And the coincidence of the timing wasn’t lost on him.  
Dib had spent the night trying to distract himself, but stray thoughts caught up to him if he wasn’t careful.  
What if he left? What if he was summoned back to Irk? Wouldn’t he have said something? Anything.  
He’d picked up a book, opened in the middle and tried to fill his mind with some character’s thankfully fictitious problems. But his eyes just ran over the same sentences again and again, unable to grasp it.  
He couldn’t possibly have been mad at Dib, right?  
Right?  
The alien wouldn’t be avoiding him and his sentimentality-- avoiding the now blatant feeling of friendship.  
Dib’s eyebrows knit together, biting anxiously at his lip as he recalled the warm, gentle look on Zim’s face as they’d parted ways that day. No. He was certain that wasn’t it.  
Then it had to be an outside force--  
A knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts, “Jesus, Gaz you startled me, come in, what’s up?”  
He heard her talking even before she had the door open. “I just want to find out if you want pizza, I’m ordering some,” she mumbled, only stepping a foot or so into his room. With her arms crossed and eyes mostly closed any one else would have thought she was just as bored and uninterested as she looked. But Dib could see her eyes focused on him closely, the little frown of worry and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Gaz would die before she admitted it, but she did care about him and she showed it, in her own subtle ways.  
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, putting on a smile for her. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to deceive her, but maybe enough to put some of her worry at ease.  
She nodded, but didn’t move to leave. “Dad’s gonna be home tomorrow,” she said tonelessly.  
“Oh, I forgot.”  
Still Gaz stood there, staring at him. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, per se. The animosity between the two of them had long since faded, they were closer now, more at ease around each other, but that didn’t mean either of them were any better at expressing themselves.  
“I saw Zim hasn’t been at school a couple days,” she finally told him. She knew exactly what that meant, she’d helped him pick out the gift and work up the courage to confront him that day in the first place.  
Dib nodded, “It’ll be fine. He’ll be there tomorrow. He can’t miss four days of school in a row, I’ll get too far ahead of him.” There was a long pause before he went on. “He, uh… he liked the sketchbook. So I’m sure he’s just sick or something.”  
Gaz just shrugged. “I don’t care,” she said, looking very much like she did. “Whatever, I’m gonna order that pizza.”  
As she turned Dib smiled a little and thanked her, not minding that she didn’t respond as she shut the door.  
He knew she heard him.  
Worry still ate at him, but the sharpness of it was dulled a little. His mind still raced but he could push it to the side a little.  
By the time he went to bed he was nothing short of exhausted from stress alone.  
But there was always tomorrow. Zim would have to be there tomorrow.  
Everything would depend on what the morning brought.  
His friend was safe. He had to be.


	3. November 19th, Friday (morning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys, help. Thank you guys for the positive feedback!! <3 <3 I'm so happy people like this story it's so ridiculously important to me. It's been a work 4 years in the making. I love hearing all your thoughts!!

Dib was bursting through the door of Zim’s base before he could so much as consider the consequences.  
He was still gone.  
The boy had shown up to school, steadying himself, just in case Zim wasn’t there. He didn’t go through the door to his classroom quite yet, just telling himself that the would be there. And if he wasn’t, well, he could go check on him after school. No big deal. It was hardly the end of the world.  
When Dib was sure he’d gotten his composure, he took a deep breath and walked into the room with sure steps.  
His eyes fell upon the empty chair. They darted across the classroom.  
And suddenly something clicked.  
It was the sound of his feet slamming against the linoleum of the floor that told Dib he was running-- sprinting back down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him, rushing through pockets of students chatting and barely noticing when he ran into people.  
Zim and Gaz made up the entire collection of all the people he cared about in the world. They were it. The possibility of losing Zim, even the thought of it had his breath turning shallow.  
He burst through the door, practically falling over the stairs down onto street level before his feet finally hit the sidewalk.  
It all felt too slow. Much too slow. Nausea settled itself in Dib’s stomach as he tried to focus on the sound of his feet hitting the ground over and over again. Setting a beat for his breath. He’d be no use to anyone if he got to the base and passed out from hyperventilating.  
Assuming there was anyone there in the first place.  
Little needles of fear pricked at his chest. But there was no point in being scared now, he was going to find out what happened to Zim. He would make sure he was okay. He had to be okay. Everything would go back to normal soon enough.  
The scenery whisked by, trees, cars, buildings-- all things he recognized, but it was strange to walk the path alone. The area, despite Dib having lived in it his whole life, was now inseparable from Zim. It was his street now. He’d never tell the alien, of course, it’d go to his head.  
A desperate little laugh escaped the panting Dib. Their friendship really had snuck up on him.  
That’s what was running through his mind as the base came into view, with its peculiar proportioning and clearly, blatantly alien characteristics. But that didn’t matter right now. Dib didn’t bother to slow down as he approached the little gate or the door, placing a hand against the first and leaping onto, then off of it. He slammed into the door, already turning the handle with one hand as the other braced his landing.  
“Zim!!” he shouted as the door flew open into the house. He rushed in, remembering afterward to shut the door with his foot as he looked around the living room and tossed his backpack away, not wanting to be weighed down. Swearing under his breath, he rushed from room to room, shouting for him, or even Gir. Nothing.  
The boy thought he might be sick as he stood in front of the elevator down to the lab, trying with all his might not to let his imagination run wild. This was the only place there was left to check. He had to be here. Or, at the very least, he’d be able to see if his ship was still there.  
But what if the alien was hurt? How could he help? It wasn’t as though--  
Dib shook his head and rushed into the elevator as soon as the doors slid open, slapping the button he knew was labeled “lab” even though he couldn’t read the sharp, angular Irken lettering on it.  
As the elevator began its descent, Dib tried to calm his still unbalanced breathing, counting each inhale, holding, and counting the exhale. He wouldn’t be any help if he got there and couldn’t even breathe.  
But what could he do to help if he did find Zim sick or injured? Nothing, really. He could die right in front of him.  
A chill ran up the boy’s spine and he bit hard at his lip, anxiety rearing its ugly head at him. He started bargaining with something, even he didn’t know what. Only thinking hard that he’d rather Zim be gone forever, but safe, rather than dying but still here. He just wanted to know he was safe.  
The elevator stopped.  
Dib fought the urge to close his eyes as the doors slid open once again, revealing the scene before him.  
The lab had been wrecked.  
Glass vials and beakers lay strewn across the floor, broken and cracked and oozing strange substances. Wires hung from the ceiling, crackling electricity sparking and falling to the floor. The desk was in utter chaos, papers torn to shreds and crumpled up all around the sprawling work area. The enormous monitor that stood tall, right in front of the desk was covered in webs of cracks, completely shattered, all coming from one piercing hole in middle. Even the walls had been marred by huge gashes along them, sharp metal jutting out from scars deeper than they had any right to be.  
Dib’s eyes followed the marred walls-- he knew what had to have caused those, though he had no idea how Zim’s PAK legs could be that powerful. But he found what he was looking for and flew forward unthinkingly.  
“Zim!” There, in the far corner of the lab was a little wall of metal, bunched and folded up as small as it could, blocking something from view. “Are you okay, what happened?” he asked hurriedly as he knelt down beside it, trying to look around the unnerving metal legs at the alien he knew was behind them.  
There was no response from the form.  
“Zim?” he repeated, reaching out a hand toward him. “What happ--”  
A flurry of motion cut him off him the moment his hand touched the cold metal. Dib leaned back with a shout, barely managing to stay out of the way of the sharp point of the appendage. The other legs slowly began to unlock from their positions, finally revealing Zim.  
But something was wrong.  
The alien’s pink eyes were glazed over, unfocused. He held no expression in his face and even as the limbs moved around him he didn’t release his knees, clutched tightly to his chest.  
Dib could do nothing but stare, trying to stay away from the flurry of blows that surrounded Zim-- not aimed anywhere in particular. They didn’t seem to follow him, slowing the second he backed off. Like a cornered animal.  
What the hell happened in here?  
“...Zim,” The human started softly. His voice was barely above a whisper but it still somehow felt like he was shouting. “Can you hear me?” After a moment’s pause it was clear that he wasn’t going to get a response. The alien’s antennae hadn’t even twitched.  
Once, a long time ago, when they were still kids, Dib had fallen out of a tree. He was being an idiot, showing off to the alien still on the ground when the branch he’d been standing on snapped beneath him. The boy had barely had the chance to scream before the legs of Zim’s PAK had launched toward him, twisting and turning to catch him right before he hit the branch below. When Dib had reached the ground Zim held a similar expression, sort of empty and unfocused, like his brain had completely turned off so his body could react.  
But he’d been pulled out of that easily enough. Just one call of his name had been enough to return him to the world then.  
Dib’s eyebrows knit together in worry and he took a careful step toward his friend, hands half raised in surrender. He’d become still, now, fortunately. The human had been accidentally cut by those PAK legs once-- it wasn’t enjoyable. As if the gored walls wasn’t evidence enough.  
Another step forward. Now Zim seemed to stiffen, but didn’t move yet.  
One more. The other backed up slightly.  
Frustration bubbled up in Dib, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “Zim, I’m going to get you somewhere safe,” he promised, taking slow steps forward. “Okay? You’ll be okay, just let me--” he was cut off by a limb that shot past him, missing by several inches, then another, but it too missed widely. With that a determination set itself in the boy’s expression and he pushed forward, not even flinching as Zim put on the show of trying to drive him away. Step by step he approached the alien, caution thrown to the wind, the sound of paper and broken glass crunching beneath his boots. But now nothing mattered by getting Zim to safety.  
Finally, finally Dib set a hand on his arm and for a moment he might have thought time stopped. He stood still, waiting for any sign that Zim could acknowledge him.  
Just as he was beginning to doubt that it would come, the legs of the PAK slowly started to retract, A little smile tugged at Dib’s lips as he placed an arm below the alien’s knees and his shoulders, lifting him up into his arms. “I got you,” he muttered whether for Zim’s benefit or his own he wasn’t sure.  
Dib hurried to the elevator, managing to press the button up to the house with his elbow. Something was off, though, he realized, as the doors slid shut. Zim’s body was cold. It shouldn’t be. Zim always ran warm, very warm. “You’re a mess, you know that?” Dib muttered to him as he tried to wriggle out of his trench coat while holding an entire person in his arms.  
With a bit of work he managed, draping it over the alien just before the elevator doors slid open again. Taking just a few more steps forward Dib layed Zim down on the couch, sitting slightly against the arm. He himself just knelt down there, on the floor right next to him.  
He made no attempt to speak yet, looking at the glazed over eyes and vacant expression. Zim had to be aware of his surroundings to some degree, or he wouldn’t have let down his guard. But how much? He hadn’t responded to Dib’s questions yet, and he didn’t look like he’d be able to for a long time.  
Dib took a deep breath, counting it out as he’d done before to calm himself down. Then, almost as an afterthought he reached for the backpack he’d thrown haphazardly to the ground earlier and pulled out his laptop. He sat with his back up against the couch, cross legged, computer in his lap.  
Gently he reached up and took Zim’s hand, placing it on his shoulder. It was weird and felt a little bit creepy, but, frankly, it was the only thing he could think of to do to help ground him. “I’m here if you need me,” he added quietly, trying very hard to focus on homework.  
Dib hoped more and more each passing second that Zim would give him some sign, any sign that he was alright.  
He hoped for a very long time.


	4. November 19th, Friday (evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So apparently italicizing isn't a thing on here? so I just put everying in single quotes that I wanted to be italicized, sorry about that! This is also my last in the series of posting I did just now, I just wanted to get it caught up with it's namesake on ff.net.

Dib was getting restless.  
Correction: Dib had been getting restless for the last five hours. He now felt like he might tear out his hair out if he didn’t do something useful.   
The sky was starting deepen in color, the light taking on a warmer tone as it spilled through the window. There had been no movement from Zim the entire time Dib had sat there, the hand on his shoulder completely motionless, though, warmer now, thank goodness. Apparently that coat had done its job.   
As much as he wanted to be there for Zim he was going to go nuts if he didn’t do anything. With a glance to his right he saw that the kitchen could use a good deep cleaning, since he wasn’t really doing anything else. He’d still be able to see and hear Zim, as long as he didn’t put on his headphones. So Dib got his schoolwork and computer tucked away into his backpack.  
He stretched out his legs a bit, sore from staying folded up for so long and stood. The little alien’s hand fell gently off his shoulder, sliding down his arm as he started to walk away.   
Or at least, just before he did.   
Because Zim’s hand suddenly gripped Dib’s wrist, hard.  
The human almost fell over himself trying to turn around and look at him. “Holy sh-- Zim?”   
Those bright pink eyes had come back into sharp focus, his piercing gaze directed right at Dib. Something like fear in his eyes as he tugged on the other’s arm. But Dib was already on his knees again, leaning in toward him.   
“Are you okay?” he asked, talking a little too loud.   
The alien just kept staring, though, not quite meeting his eyes.   
“S- sorry, lemme just--” Dib took a deep breath and tried to dial it back. Frankly, it didn’t matter what happened. It didn’t matter why Zim was like this. For now what mattered was making sure he’d be okay. Making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. With a certainty that he didn’t feel and in a gentle voice Dib spoke again, “Is it alright if I sit with you? I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”  
Zim obeyed without a word and that might have been the most unnerving part of it all. But without a second’s hesitation Dib joined him on the couch. They sat cross-legged facing each other, knees touching slightly. Zim’s body still looked slightly slack under Dib’s trenchcoat, but less lifeless than it had been. Good. Dib rested a hand on Zim’s knee, palm up. He put a hand out for Zim’s letting him decide whether or not he would allow it without needing to speak.   
Again, Zim acquiesced wordlessly.   
Dib nodded and squeezed his gloved hand gently. Just as he expected Zim didn’t notice. He asked anyway. “Can you feel this?”   
An almost imperceptible shake of the head, but his expression seemed calmer, less desperate than it had been just a moment ago. Dib stayed quiet, firmly, but gently pressing his thumbs into the palm of the three fingered hand.   
Dissociation was not an unusual concept to either of them. When they’d gotten older they finally had something to call that incident with the tree. They realized it was why Dib didn’t seem all there at school some days after his father came home. Dib had realized, long ago, with guilt crashing down on him, that it was why his sister barely acknowledged, let alone interacted with the world around her.   
It was an alarming and unpleasant sensation. Like your body wasn’t quite connected to your brain. Like you were there, but slightly removed from yourself. At least it was for him. So for now his main focus was to bring Zim back down, reconnect him, so to speak.   
He spoke softly, encouraging him to listen to his voice and focus on his hands.   
Victory came in the twitch of an antennae when Dib squeezed the alien’s hand again. “You felt that?” he asked and Zim nodded, but he couldn’t hide the tiny roll of his eyes, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. He could practically hear the alien calling him an idiot. Even better. “I saw that,” Dib told him, smirking, but he moved on, his hands pressing higher up into the other’s thin wrist and forearm. Zim shook his head before Dib could even ask if he could feel it.   
They moved silently like this for a little while, switching to Zim’s other arm when he was able to feel his left one again. Warm rays of the sun were slipping down the horizon by the time Zim nodded for the last time and took back his hands, pressing his knees up to his chest and hugging them, unable to look at the human. Dib just sat back watching his face.   
He was definitely better than he’d been before, but it was so… eerie not to hear his voice. Getting him to be quiet had always been a much more daunting task than getting him to speak.   
“How are you feeling?”   
Zim shrugged.  
“Bad, then?” Dib asked teasing only very gently.   
Zim just shrugged again, but now he looked at him, those bright magenta eyes staring into his, defeated, exhausted. It caught Dib off guard, the intensity of that expression. There was something behind it. Some powerful feeling. But speaking was clearly too much for him right now…   
The boy reached forward, pulling a notebook and pen out of his backpack on the floor. “If you can’t write either it’s alright,” he assured Zim, offering them to him, “But, would you try?”   
There was only a moment of pause before he took it, opening it to the first blank page. He wrote quickly and was soon handing it back, staring intently at Dib’s face as he read it.  
'Why are you still here'  
The hurt was obvious in Dib’s expression when he looked at Zim and the alien seemed to panic a little, reaching for the paper and adding to it.   
'Zim thought that the Dib-creature wanted to leave'  
“What? No, why-- I was just going to into the kitchen to clean, I needed something to do,” Dib explained quickly. His eyes softened and the hurt vanished as he explained. “Did you think… I was going to leave you here alone?”   
The little alien nodded without a word, his expression settling into something more subdued. Sad.   
Dib forced himself to smile instead of scream, fury eating at his chest. He was going to make whoever did this pay. “Zim, if I haven’t had enough of you after five years I don’t think an extra few hours is gonna draw the line.”  
Instead of the sheepish grin he was hoping to see, Zim just shrugged, his half shut eyes on the floor. As though what Dib had said wasn’t entirely believable.   
It wasn’t as though the boy had never seen Zim self conscious. The alien constantly doubted himself, devalued himself, and didn’t listen to anything that conflicted with that idea. That was why he seemed so exaggeratedly arrogant. But that arrogance didn’t go much deeper than the very surface. Even before the two of them were particularly close Dib had guessed that something was wrong.   
As time passed and their animosity cooled, leaving more of a rivalry in its wake, they spent more time exchanging information. Learning about each other and their different worlds, different lives. That’s when it became really and truly clear. Zim’s entire self worth was based around the opinions of his rulers. And what with him being… well, the way he was, he could never earn the praise he so desperately wanted.   
But this was different. Dib had seen Zim exhausted, weak, angry-- they’d known each other for five years, after all. And as hard as they’d tried for most of that time to not acknowledge the friendship that had started to flourish it still did. But this… he was crushed. He was lifeless and hopeless and unable to even meet Dib’s eyes.   
It filled Dib with a white hot anger that made the room spin around him for a second.   
“Can I stay?” the boy blurted out, his words coming out in a bit of a rush, like he couldn’t say them fast enough. “Until you can go back to school. Can I hang out here for a while?”  
That caught the alien’s attention. Dib had chosen his words carefully and it seemed to have accomplished it’s desired effect as Zim took the notebook and scribbled in it once more.   
'You want to stay? Here, with Zim?''  
Dib had leaned in toward him to read as he wrote and he just nodded decisively when he was finished.   
'Why?'  
For a second the boy wasn’t sure how to respond, too many thoughts rushing through his mind.   
Because he was scared of what might happen to the alien if he were left alone. Because he was selfish and Zim was his only friend and he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without him. Because his heart felt tight at the sight of his ridiculous arrogant rival too timid to speak how he wanted to.  
Because Zim was important and needed to know it. Not in the performative, loud way he claimed to, in a self assured, personal way.   
Part of him wanted to say that. Wanted to be clear and sincere. But something cowardly in him shot it down. A fearful, weak part of him.   
Instead he just smirked and picked up the empty sleeve of his jacket, “You’ve got my jacket.”  
Zim looked at him, unimpressed, but something in his face had softened, the hard line of his suspicious lips replaced by a slight, perhaps unwilling smile. And Dib knew that he understood.   
Growing up with someone is... strange.   
And Dib was lucky enough to experience it twice. While he didn’t exactly have anything else to compare it to, he realized that night just how grateful he was to have the two people he had in his life.   
Zim knew him better than even his sister could. From childhood to rapidly approaching adulthood they'd spent all their time fighting, discussing, talking, arguing, learning from and with each other. The two could hold an entire conversation in a look, read each other through body language alone. They'd become the people they were with and because of each other. Every flaw, every achievement was known to them. They knew when they'd gone to far and they knew how to make up for it. They knew when to stop. They knew when to push each other harder. They knew that 'I hate you' never, ever meant that.   
It was priceless and it was important. It was as intimidating as it was comforting, as powerful as it was vulnerable.   
You can never know someone completely. Not truly. But they got pretty damn close.

 

...It was agreed that Dib would stay.   
Later on that night Dib, still sitting on the couch next to Zim, would tell him he’d go home tomorrow for a few hours to talk to Gaz and get some of his things. The alien would respond only with a quiet nod and Dib would say it again, “I will come back.”  
And in spite of everything, Zim believed him.


	5. November 20th, Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATS UP THIS TOOK ME FOREVER. Hi this took me forever and I'm the worst and I'm sorry!! I just really had a hard time with this chapter for some reason-- I really really wanted it to be perfect, and I'm still not quite happy with it, but I think it gets the point across. Thank you all so so much for all the sweet reviews I appreciate it so so much it really keeps me motivated to keep writing even when it gets really hard. As always I look forward to hearing your thoughts, feelings and criticisms, I absolutely love hearing from all of you, thank you so much!!! <3 <3 
> 
> also trigger warning for mentions of parental abuse-- this will be a theme throughout the story but anytime it comes up I'll mention it specifically in the notes, definetly don't want anyone coming up on that without warning.

Dib was buckled over, hands on his knees to keep himself from falling down where he stood just inside the door of his house. Gaz was just staring at him, arms crossed from her perch, curled up on the couch. She still had yesterday’s school clothes on-- shoes and all, but the blanket by her feet and the slight heaviness to her eyelids made it clear enough that she’d just been woken up.   
“Oh, you’re back,” she mumbled, her voice a little rough with sleep.   
A pang of guilt stabbed at his heart.   
Only a year’s difference between them really wasn’t a lot. Dib knew that. But memories of guiding a half asleep, none-to-pleased Gaz upstairs to bed when they were little floated into his mind. Memories of her energetic late nights and groggy early mornings even as a little kid tugged at his conscience as he watched his little sister wake up.  
“Hey, kid,” he finally responded, keeping his voice pretty low as he took his place beside her.   
He might have been about to say something else but was stopped by a weak glare, and a muttered, “F-off, you’re eighteen months older than me.”  
In Dib’s mind that was long enough, but he didn’t say that aloud, only letting out a quiet laugh. “Sorry I got here so early, I should have thought of that before I booked it over here. ”  
Gaz shrugged as she pushed herself up, apparently trying to sit up while exerting as little effort as possible. “‘M glad you’re okay,” she mumbled, almost grudgingly, not looking at him. “You could have at least texted me.”  
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”  
“You gonna tell me what happened or are you gonna just apologize?” There wasn’t any force behind it, not anger or anything. Just the question. Talking to Gaz could be so nerve wracking sometimes-- so blunt and somehow both apathetic and genuine.   
“I can tell you, but I’m gonna tell you right now it doesn’t give me an excuse for not having been here on a night that dad was coming back. I should have been here, I’m sor--”   
“Calm down, Dib, I’m not a kid anymore, I can handle dad on my own.”  
The boy felt his chest tighten a little bit, tensing up. Everything in him fought against that idea. In his mind that was the worst case scenario. But he didn’t say any of that out loud. “I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”  
“Whatever, just tell me what happened with your stupid alien boy.”  
“How’d you know it--”  
“Where else would you have spent all night? I told dad you were out late, studying for a science test.”  
He took a deep breath, uttering a weak ‘thank you,’ as anxiety starting to dig its nasty claws into him. Just thinking about last night made him uncomfortable, made his brain start moving too fast, cycling around the same problem, the same questions over and over again.   
But Gaz had a right to know. And he had to let her know what was going on-- what he had to do.   
So he explained. Dib told his sister everything that had happened, from him skipping school to finding Zim’s lab absolutely torn apart. He told her about the way he’d found Zim, huddled up in a corner, complete unresponsive, how he’d helped the alien come back down, everything. Gaz just sat quietly and listened, her expression barely changed as he spoke, but she nodded occasionally to show she was listening. As he drew to the end of it, he decided not to mention yet that he’d be staying with Zim. That would need to be… seperate.   
When he’d finally finished, Gaz looked at him pointedly, something just a step below suspicion in her eyes. “Okay, I get all that. You were preoccupied. But why do you still look so guilty?”  
Dib looked away from her. “I can’t… Gaz, I can’t leave him alone. I don’t know what would happen. I- if he’s by himself… I- I mean his lab, that had to have been him, right? But I’ve never seen Zim get that angry. He hasn’t lashed out physically like that since we were way younger and even then, not so… destructively. I don’t know if he would be safe--”  
Gaz cut him off, her voice monotone and heavy. “You want to stay with Zim.”  
There was silence for a moment. For a second, Dib almost thought about taking it back. Hearing the words from Gaz’s mouth made him feel more selfish than he had already.   
But he couldn’t do that.   
He nodded. “Just until… I just need to know that he’s going to be safe, Gaz.”  
More quiet filled the room, thick and heavy with unspoken words.  
And then Gaz swung her feet off the couch and stood. “Well, let’s get your stuff packed.”   
“What?”  
“Come on, nerd boy, do you want my help or not?”   
“I guess?” he responded, slowly getting up as Gaz was already heading upstairs to his room.   
Whatever he had expected to happen, this certainly wasn’t it.   
She was already waiting by the door when he got up the stairs, his legs still tired from now two separate panicked sprints across the neighborhood. Dib opened it and they went inside.   
“What are you gonna need with you? I guess your school stuff is already there.”  
“Yeah. I guess you could put some of the stuff from my desk in my extra backpack? If you want?” Dib suggested, watching Gaz with confusion. Her only response was to head over to the desk and start figuring out what he might need with him.   
Dib turned from her and started putting some clothes in a small suitcase he had that he’d never used. He wanted to give Gaz space, give her room to process whatever was going on in her head, so he didn’t say anything.   
But the silence wasn’t the comfortable one they usually shared. This was practically tangible. And it went on for the longest five minutes Dib thought he’d ever experienced.   
“Gaz,” he finally started, only for the rest of his sentence to be run over by his little sister, still refusing to look at him.   
“It’s fine, Dib.”  
“It’s not though--”  
“I can take care of myself.”  
“I know you can, I never said you couldn’t.”  
“Then why would it matter that you’re leaving?”   
“It’s just for a little bi--”  
Then suddenly Gaz turned on him, her shoulders tensed and her fists clenched at her side. “How do you know that? You don’t know what’s going on with Zim, you don’t know how long it’ll take or even if he’ll be okay, do you? So don’t lie to me about it, I’m not a kid I don’t need you to protect me.”  
Dib was quiet for a moment, just looking at her. Even she seemed to be a little startled.  
Then a little smile formed on his lips. He stood and walked to his bed, next to the desk. He flopped down onto it, leaning back on his hands. “Do you remember when we were kids and we used to bike around the block all the time? Dad always made us stay on the side of the road, even though no one’s ever driving on this road.”  
His sister’s face softened a little, but the sharpness in her eyes didn’t shift. “Yeah. Yeah I always thought it was a dumb rule and it wasn’t like he was there to inforce it anyway, so I just did whatever I wanted.”   
The boy grinned a little wider, “You know, I thought you were the coolest shit for that.”   
Gaz’s expression conveyed that she did not, in fact, know that. Dib couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I did! We were, like, seven and you were already the rebel I’d never be.” She rolled her eyes, but they both knew it was true. “We used to play outside all the time, before you became a creature of the night,” he teased. “And I got super into aliens and paranormal stuff.”   
“Well, you’re the one that got me my first video game, so really, I could blame that on you,” Gaz told him, a little bit of a smirk starting to come to her face.   
“How was I supposed to know you’d be so good at them?”  
“Because I’m good at everything.”  
“Oookay then,” Dib laughed as Gaz finally sat next to him, the last of the tension in the air washing away with his sister’s own grudging laugh. He was quiet for a little bit, reminiscing, thinking.   
But he didn’t get a chance to figure out what he wanted to say, yet.   
“It really isn’t your job to protect me, idiot.”  
“It’s not my job, it’s my choice.”  
“I don’t need protecting.”  
“But you deserve it.”  
“I’m not a child.”  
“But you were once.” Dib felt his chest tighten a little. “And I wasn’t there then.”  
“What? Yeah you were.”  
“I mean, I was there physically, but… we were kind of… against each other then.”  
“You mean in elementary school when we didn’t like each other for like two years? Two years of my almost sixteen years of life? Two years that I barely even remember?” Gaz asked, looking at him sideways, as though he was being ridiculous.  
Dib cringed, “Yeah, Gaz, I hate to break it to you, but most people don’t just not really remember three years of their life.”   
Gaz just shrugged.   
“It’s just, it was more than kids fighting when we were younger. I got you in trouble with dad.”  
“I got you in trouble, too, I don’t see why it matters.”  
“Because I was older! I knew what I was doing, you were just a scared kid.”  
“What and with your eighteen months of extra wisdom you weren’t?”  
“It’s not- No, it’s not like that. I was, but I knew dad wasn’t safe. I knew it and I still did it. That’s what I’m making up for now.”  
“It’s not like dad ever got physical with me, he just got mad.”   
“But there was always the chance. There still is and always will be a risk of that with you. That’s why I feel the way I do. That’s why I want to be around when he’s here.”  
Gaz frowned, “If you feel so damn bad about leaving, why are you doing it?”  
A long moment of silence followed her voice. Dib shoved down the guilt that threatened to come out of his mouth. Gaz needed an explanation, not a guilt trip. “Because I know you can be alright by yourself, at least for a little while. I don’t know if I can say the same for Zim, right now.”  
His sister was quiet, not looking at him.   
“Listen, this doesn’t mean I can’t come over, ya know? We can still text, and I’ll still be here when dad comes home. I wouldn’t leave you alone with him, besides, it’s not like I can tell him I’m moving in with Zim. I won’t always be here, but if something comes up you had better believe that I will drop everything and be over here. Even if it’s just that you’re stuck on a chemistry question, or something.”   
Gaz nodded, still looking a little unconvinced. “I just…” she looked uncomfortable, the sharpness of her features seemed lessened, the decisive and almost rigid way she moved and spoke wavered. “I’m- I’m trying not to be, but I’m mad at you for it,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “You spend all this fucking time telling me you want to act as my damn body guard or whatever and then you just up and leave. It’s not that I want you to protect me and all that, but you said you would and now you’re just going to leave.”  
Dib smiled sadly at her, taking a moment before he spoke, softly. “I think that’s the most honest you’ve been to me since we were single digit ages.”  
She snorted out a laugh, “And it won’t be happening again, so I guess it better be enough for you.”  
“You’re allowed to be mad at me,” Dib told her gently, trying to look her in the eyes. “I get it. I’ll still be here for you and I’ll still keep dad off your ass, but that won’t necessarily change how you feel about it, and that’s okay.”  
“Well, you suck, then,” Gaz told him half heartedly, leaning over and bumping into him with her shoulder. “There, that’s enough for today. Let’s get you the hell out of here, now, so you can get back to your alien boy and figure out what’s wrong with him.”   
Dib smiled a little, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You still want to help me with all my nerdy stuff?”   
“Yeah, especially if it means you aren’t giving me a half-assed hug anymore,” she grumbled, but she leaned her head against his arm, in the most affectionate gesture she’d given him in years.   
He just laughed and let go of her, allowing each their own space and one more moment’s silence before they both stood and started packing in earnest.


	6. November 20th, Saturday (afternoon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATS UP FOLKS ITS BEEN LIKE A YEAR
> 
> I am So Hyped to maybe actually finish this story this time!!!! lol 
> 
> To explain myself a bit, I've had a whole Lotta Life happening, but!! I've been trying to write more often and some folks have left comments even after the fic seemed dead which has really encouraged me to keep going, so! Here's the new chapter thank you all so unbelievably much for your patience and kindness I love you all ❤️❤️❤️ 
> 
> PS: as always I welcome constructive criticism especially now that I'm really pursuing writing as something a bit more like a career!!
> 
> PPS: I may have written this whole chapter in literally one day in an inspiration fueled fever dream, so sorry in advance for me/Dib being a dramatic bastard lmao I just have a lot of feelings and this idiot is a fantastic vessel
> 
> EDIT: As though this author's note isn't long enough-- I forgot to add the warnings to the original, I'm so sorry!! I talk not so vaguely about depression/suicidal ideation in this chapter, if that's not for you, you absolutely do not have to read it! Skip where you feel uncomfy, that's so so fair and I'll have the next chapter out soon!! I'm already working on it <3 <3

The goodbye they shared was a little awkward, a little stilted, but warm and hopeful-- at least as much as the pointedly apathetic girl could muster. 

He'd be back in a week. 

Somehow it was all he could think about, steady footsteps padding against the crunchy, leaf strewn ground, a hand pulling a wheeled suitcase. The chilled autumn air cooled his all but feverish skin, the slowly burning heat of anxiety both counteracting and distracting from the weather. He moved to shove his hand into his pocket, managing only to look a little silly as he remembered at the same moment that his coat was still at Zim’s. That’s what he got for dashing out of the house like an idiot, he supposed. Dib let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing his hand roughly along his tired face. 

Part of him wanted to have one free minute to be able to stop thinking. The rest of him felt like a monster for feeling sorry for himself at a time like this. 

He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted to walk this road and not have every worst case scenario running through his mind, to not be worried about what waited for him at the end of the road, regardless of which side he started on. 

He resented having to be on just one side. Maybe it wasn’t all he was making it seem, but it certainly felt that way. 

If it could just be the three of them… 

With a shake of his head Dib took a deep breath, running cold fingers through overgrown hair. It steadied him. Reminded him that he had needs like thinking not to run out into the cold in a day-old tee-shirt and thinking to bring his water bottle with him literally ever, maybe. 

A chuckle bubbled out of his chest, short and sharp, frustration coming off of him in waves, the grip on his suitcase tight, his steps faster and heavier.

Why not worry about everything? It’s multitasking! A huge time saver. Might as well worry about being forgetful and how to protect his little sister from his worthless father and how he’s going to keep his best friend alive and--

And that he really thought, was deeply and truly terrified that Zim might do something. That the danger was nowhere near passed. 

It wasn’t as though they hadn’t talked about… things like this. But it didn’t make it any less scary. 

They had the language: depression, trauma, anxiety, dissociation. But the words themselves could only help for so long. It was powerful to understand that they weren’t the only ones, but it didn’t give them a way to change it, to deal with it. Understanding was only the first step. 

Talking… helped. Sharing their experiences. They weren’t easy conversations, but they had both so badly needed to know that they weren’t alone.

Dib had been the one to start the conversation, in a shy, sort of childish fashion, but he did it all the same. Zim had pushed it, gently and with a sensitivity that had surprised the other in spite of himself. He had been shockingly open, honest, vulnerable in a way that had encouraged the same from Dib.

That was what made their relationship work, what made it powerful. 

The boy turned his gaze upward, almost physically trying to pull himself out of this downward spiral, focusing on the shifting and swirling leaves, the way they fell and drifted, colors melting together like watercolors-- the movement in them. 

Even when they hadn’t quite been friends, in that first year, they were still important to each other. As kids they’d seen their similarities and it irritated, even infuriated them. That competitive nature becoming stubbornness, determination turned to relentlessness, insecurity… simply reflective of the viewer.

The change came rapidly after that first year. They would never agree who took the first step, it was their favorite “argument” to have, loathe as they were to admit it. It was fun to remember all the early moments when they were first getting to know each other and determine which was really the first. But it didn’t matter. Not really. What mattered was how much they learned. The way aggravation turned to interest, interest to respect, respect to friendship. 

They still competed, of course. It was one of the best parts of their friendship, pushing one another to become better. It was how they learned when they went too far and how to make amends, how to keep it from happening again. 

And they only got better with practice. 

A warm smile tugged at Dib’s lips, courage starting to creep into his heart. They’d been through five years of life together. How could they be beaten now? If something would break them, surely it would have happened already?

But as Dib lowered his head his eyes fell on the house of his rival, his best friend, much more quickly than he had expected. He felt his knees get a little weak, his heart beat seeming to stutter as the cold afternoon air caught in his throat like a stifled sob. 

All he could think about was the silence waiting for him inside. The hopelessness and fear that seemed so alien to him-- so much more so than Zim himself. He wanted to help, he wanted to fix this. But all he could do was wait. Wait and be there for him. 

Uncertain steps led Dib down what was left of the path, shaking and unstable in every sense of the word, left feeling as secure as one of the browning autumn leaves on a dying tree. 

He stood in front of the brightly colored door, all but holding his breath and with a final determined push, opened the door. 

After all, they’d never let fear stop them before.


	7. November 20th, Saturday (evening)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I starting to regret the naming convention for the chapters on this story? Heck yeah I am! I thought it'd be cool but folks ya boi forgot that they aren't great at pacing all the time, so! That's okay at least I am putting words together into big ol' strings of words! 
> 
> Love you all, here's the next chapter!! This is the first time I've gotten a chance to write Zim's voice in a while so lmk what you think if you feel like it!
> 
> PS: I would give my whole Soul to be able to use command i to italicize on this site holy cow

The living room looked much the same as he had left it that morning-- a couple blankets sprawled, half on the floor, half twisted up and around Zim, curled up beneath them. As far as Dib could tell, the only real difference was the alien himself, now sitting upright as he watched the other enter, and the long coat laying folded neatly beside him, looking very specifically untouched, with the exception of a single sleeve, not-so-subtly stretched up from the ground and next to Zim’s sharp little hands. 

Suddenly Dib didn’t mind the chilly walk so much.

Big magenta eyes stared widely at him, darting from the suitcase to his face and back again, seeming to brighten the longer he looked. 

“Um, Gaz is. Okay,” Dib started awkwardly, hating how hard he had to try to keep his voice stable and calm. “She says she hopes you feel better soon and not just so she can have me around to do her homework for her again.”

Zim smiled weakly at that, but his eyes didn’t change, a little crease on his forehead starting to form as Dib shuffled his things over into a corner and came over to join him on the couch. He fell into it heavily with a sigh, folding his legs up onto it so he could face Zim.

“What’s that face for?”

All he got in response was a little tilt of the head and a twitch of an antenna. 

The alien just looked at him for another second, then turned and reached for something behind him. Dib felt his heart get a little warmer when he saw what it was. 

“Writing’s been working then?” he asked, putting on a smile as Zim handed him the notebook with a determined nod. He seemed much more alive, at least-- a little forced, but more there than he had been. “You don’t have to, if--” but the alien shook his head, dismissing what he was about to say entirely and pressing the notebook toward him more urgently.

Dib took it and read. 

_Dib-thing looks very much as though he might collapse at any minute. Zim would describe it as putting together the way you look after running “The Mile” in the Physical Education class and when you have a Paper due tomorrow that you haven’t started. Both of which, of course, Zim has seen several times._

_Are you alright?_

The human’s heart seemed to stop in spite of itself, his throat closing up like he was about to cry, a flush coloring his face for a moment out of sheer embarrassment.  
This was backwards. Wrong.

“I- I’m alright, Zim,” he replied quickly, handing back the notebook with shaky hands. When he got as much of a side eye as a creature without irises could make, he smiled a little, “Really-- I’m just. A little worried, that’s all.”

Zim nodded, still staring at him, his whole face seeming to say "...and?"

“It’s really fine.”

A frown formed on his face and he straightened out a little, expression seeming more focused, more at attention, despite how weak and exhausted his body seemed.  
Dib was about to speak again before Zim turned his attention to his notebook. The scribbles on it would have been illegible to anyone else.

_The Dib has not hidden his worries from Zim since he was small._

“Neither have you,” Dib mumbled tiredly, running a hand through his stubbornly upturned hair, pulling it back roughly, his brow furrowing. “Even pretending nothing happened yesterday, are you really going to try to tell me you think this is normal? That you’re acting the same as always and--”

He stopped suddenly when he felt a hand on his arm, gentle, just the wrong side of afraid. 

Molten hot anger flashed in Dib’s mind again, for just a split second. He hated all of this. Hated every second, every action and word unspoken out of fear and uncertainty. He wanted to personally find and destroy whatever did this to him, find what did it and make them feel everything Zim had ever felt, every second of paranoia and doubt, make them pay.

...Then he turned to look at Zim and it melted away, there for a moment and gone the next. And all he wanted to do was cry.

But instead he swallowed it down and looked at Zim’s worried face, a note already being pushed toward him. 

_Zim does not wish to worry you. Dib has been… kind. Far more kind than he is in any way obligated to be. Zim will speak, if you wish, explain itself. Just. Later._

Here the writing grew a little wobbly, angles and lines less harsh than the rest. 

_Zim still needs time._

A moment of hesitation passed as Dib tried to think, attempted to breathe through it all. “That’s… that’s fair. I’m sorry. It just… sucks that you have to feel like this. You’ve never--” he stopped, covering his face with his hands and letting out a groan. Zim squeezed his arm, looking confused, scared. But he scribbled something on the page anyway. 

_Dib needs to talk._

“You don’t need-- I can’t ask you to--” He felt Zim’s fingers tap his wrist and turned, biting his lip to stay quiet as he watched the other write.

_Dib did not ask._

They looked at each other for a moment, then, Zim’s eyes soft, worried and still so impossibly sad, Dib’s a little bloodshot from exhaustion and biting back tears all day.  
And in that second something clicked into, or perhaps out of, place.

Dib blurted out, “Can I hug you?”

Zim blinked, a half grin tugged at his lips, almost familiar in its playfulness. He nodded, releasing the other’s arm and extending his own just as Dib leaned over and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Almost too tight. Almost. 

He was silent for a moment, visibly relaxing a little, face hidden from view. “I was so fucking scared,” Dib muttered, his voice shaking in spite of himself. “I thought-- I thought it might have been my fault somehow, I thought you just didn’t want to be here anymore, I- I didn’t know what to think I just knew you were gone.” Zim just nodded, hugging him tighter, “I know we don’t say it-- we’re not usually like that-- actions speak louder than words or whatever, but,” he pulled away from him, looked him in the eyes as he spoke, “Zim, you know how much you mean to me, right? I value this relationship so, so much. You are my best friend and you always have been. And- And I know we know the difference between play fighting and real fighting but you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met no matter how many times I call you an idiot. I’m really glad that I get to know you and I can’t even begin to describe how much better you’ve made my life.”

The alien just stared, one hand gripping a blanket held tight to his chest. He didn’t respond for a moment, eyes soft and the hint of a real smile on his face. But finally, Zim nodded, a little misty eyed as he averted his gaze from the human in front of him. 

“I just… wanted to say that,” Dib said softly, rubbing at his traitorous eyes sending tears down his cheeks, very much against his will. When he looked at Zim again, the alien was presenting him with a new note, scrawled hurriedly across the page. 

_Zim would like to have an equally emotional monologue that he gives for Dib, when his voice becomes functional again, if the human is willing._

Dib chuckled, smiling at his friend. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Can’t let me hog the spotlight.” 

Zim shook his head, seemed to think for a moment, then wrote out another little note. 

_If Dib is willing to share, Zim would like to know how his meeting with the Gaz was. You seemed rather a hurry to get to her._

Another pang of guilt stabbed through his chest as he thought back on it, but he hesitated to speak any way, uncertain. He didn’t want to make Zim feel guilty, didn’t want to make him any less willing to accept help. But, with a glance at Zim, expectant eyes fixed on his face, he couldn’t help but confide in his friend. 

He talked for a long time. Talked about why he had been worried, what he was afraid of, he told Zim about trying to explain what happened with Gaz, trying to tell her why he felt like he had to do this, trying to justify, or at least explain why he needed to leave for a while. 

It was cathartic, getting it all out there. Voicing all the little worries his brain was obsessing over, remembering that in spite of how guilty he felt, the conversation itself hadn’t gone terribly. And he couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed as he told Zim about his melodramatic, introspective walk home.

He couldn’t help but feel a lot less silly when Zim squeezed his hand and smiled sadly, reminding him just how much he understood. 

It was still strange, talking like this. It wasn’t the same, wasn’t as fun or familiar without the sharp, loud voice that so often accompanied his own. But Zim was still there with him, still listening and expressive, even lessened as it was. 

In spite of himself, in spite of every worry and fear, he started to hope. He started to think that one day, maybe even some time soon, they’d be having a talk a lot like this one, but maybe it’d be Zim’s belligerent, familiar voice he’d be listening to.


	8. November 24th, Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up this is almost kinda sorta on time!!

Zim was trying so hard to act normal. He was trying so goddamn hard. 

The last day of the weekend was easier somehow-- after years of school Sundays had begun to feel like a liminal space. He’d been able to communicate with his pen and paper most of the day, interrupted only by a couple of hours when he seemed to just disappear. 

Monday was harder. 

Zim had been the one to stubbornly insist that Dib go to school, promising that he’d be alright, that he’d call or text if anything went wrong using the ancient (by technology’s standards) phone the human had managed to track down in the house. He didn’t even whine about how much he disliked it. By the end of it, Dib had little choice but to give in, finally admitting that not going might stress him out just as much as going would. 

The morning that followed was almost… normal. 

Dib had unintentionally spent many nights on the other’s couch, each curled up against opposite ends with books, papers and Dib’s laptop strewn between them, an alarm barely remembered in the bleary late night talk, vague attempts at homework and peaceful quiet that managed to push out the world that had shoved them together. 

The only difference was that when the alarm went off that morning, Dib got ready on his own. Just before he left he turned and waved a little, his voice soft as he said, “I’ll be back later. Be safe.”

Zim had felt warmth in his chest when he heard it. For a while it was enough to keep him there. It gave him something to hold onto, to repeat in his mind with the quiet talks they’d had over the last couple of days already. His mind could focus, remember that he was more than a soldier, a pawn. He was a person. With someone who cared whether he was alive or dead. 

For a while it was enough. Until it wasn’t. Until his mind could no longer ignore the battle his heart was waging against it. No matter how many times he remembered, replayed the moments in his head he did not believe it. And nothing seemed to change that. 

The day vanished in a puff of smoke the moment Zim started his downward spiral. It was as though he’d fallen asleep, but his eyes felt dry and he was exhausted, staring numbly at the door that was somehow already starting to open up. It almost sparked something in him-- anger, maybe, or grief. For the first time in days he felt something sharp cutting through the wall of unfeeling denial.

Then Dib walked through the door and looked at him. 

In a single moment Zim took in the tired eyes, dark circles more prominent on the boy’s face than ever, the crease on his forehead, the tension in his shoulders, the way he seemed to shrink a little. 

He noticed the strained, hopeful smile that tugged at his lips. 

Dib didn’t seem like the optimistic sort to those who didn’t know him well-- seemed the sort to get bitter and angry. But Zim knew him. Zim knew that there was hope in that head. A deep-rooted, bright optimism that, though he’d be unbearably embarrassed to say so out loud, the alien admired more than anything else.

Again, he felt something sharp in his chest, overwhelming. He was acting on the feeling almost before he realized he felt it. 

He lied. Not with malice, but with intention-- with silence. 

Zim smiled back. 

And so it had been for a few nights since. A couple of days passed, time seeming to slip out of his hands like water, burning much the same. He convinced himself that his act was right, that it wasn’t lying per se not to just act like a miserable worm, to just try to act normal. Wasn’t it bad enough that he couldn’t even talk to his best friend? 

For almost an entire day he even managed to believe that Dib believed him, too. That the human couldn’t see through it all. But it didn’t take long for that crease on his forehead to return, the worry in his eyes speaking volumes, even as his voice stayed quiet, barely saying anything above small talk. 

But Dib never pushed. Nothing beyond a gentle, “How are you doing?” and a quiet nod when Zim smiled at him again.

He’d never been the kind to push much. Not without reason.

That day had been much the same as the others, numb and unbearable, but when the footsteps jolted Zim back to reality today, they were much faster, heavier. The door burst open with an energy that almost made the alien tired just watching it. 

Dib’s mop of dark hair poked out from behind it and he closed the door behind him, less delicately than usual. His back was straight, hands on his hips, feet firm on the ground.  
“I’m back,” he announced, as he did every day. A strange human habit that the Irken used to often teased him for.

Zim smiled and greeted him with a wave. 

In a flurry of motion, Dib dropped his backpack down on the floor in front of the couch and flopped onto it, legs crossed, hands folded on top as he faced Zim pointedly. “How are you?”

The alien nodded, already reaching for the notebook and pen that sat beside him. 

But suddenly Dib’s hand flew out and caught Zim’s wrist. “Hang on,” he started, glancing at his hand, seeming almost surprised at himself, “First of all, I’ll let go if you want me to.” The alien just shook his head, wide eyes taking in the human’s almost wild expression, the determination in his dark eyes. Dib nodded, slowly bringing his hand down, releasing him and taking his hand more gently as he apologized again, a flush on his cheeks. But he refocused, his voice steadying as he spoke again. 

“How do you feel about just nodding and shaking your head for a sec?”

Zim nodded with a tilt of his head, ignoring the icy fear stabbing into his chest. Refusing to think that this might finally be it, that Dib had finally have gotten tired of him. Refusing unsuccessfully, but trying, at least. 

Dib’s eyes softened, though, and he took Zim’s other hand. “You’re not in trouble, Zim,” he all but whispered, squeezing his hands tightly, hating how the words felt in his mouth. “I- I’m sorry, that must have startled you, I just. I just want to talk to you for a second.”

With a deep breath, Dib tried to calm his fried nerves, suppressing an almost unmanageable amount of anxious energy. The alien’s hands trembled in his own, bright magenta, pupil-less eyes staring at him with thinly veiled fear. 

He took a moment, then asked again, as gently as he could, “How are you doing, Zim?” 

The Irken shifted uncomfortably under the human’s gaze, eyes quickly moving to avoid them. Half way through a nod the other’s voice made him look back.

“Zim.”

Dib just looked at him, holding his hands in his own. Zim felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. 

“You know you don’t have to be okay right now, don’t you? You know that?”

Zim couldn’t quite respond for a while, one half of him ready to break down, ready to tell him everything, the other pushing him to continue the lie, to not admit his own frailty, to free Dib of this obligation he felt to him for some reason. 

“Hey,” Dib interrupted his thoughts, warmth in his voice, a gentle pressure against the alien’s wrists pulling him back down to the real world. “Can you breathe for me?”  
He did so without hesitation, clinging to the instructions he was given. Breathing he could do, probably. 

“You’re allowed to not know, too, by the way,” Dib murmured, watching Zim carefully. “I’m not asking you to trap you. I’m asking because I want to know.” 

Zim nodded, focussing on his breathing, listening to the familiar cant of Dib’s speech. 

“Do you need a minute?” 

With a shake of his head, Zim looked back at Dib, barely able to meet his eyes. 

“I just…” The boy hesitated, his own anxiety boiling up in him, afraid that he might say the wrong thing, push too hard. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Can you just be… honest with me? Whatever your reasons, I don’t want to be lied to, especially-- especially if it’s just because you think you’re too much or you don’t want to make me feel bad or whatever.”

Another moment passed in silence, not quite looking at each other. Neither quite sure what to say, or how to say it. 

It was Zim that broke the tension, wrapping his fingers loosely around the other’s hands and squeezing. He glanced to his writing tools, immediately eliciting Dib to release his hold on him.

“Do you… want to tell me? Do you want to talk about anything right now?” 

Zim hesitated, what little confidence he’d recovered wavering. 

“You don’t have to. I can drop it right now and we can just watch a movie or something while I work on homework.” Dib looked at him, all the sincerity in the world encompassed by his expression. 

A thousand possibilities rushed through the alien’s mind. The thought of Dib believing he didn’t trust him, the constant fear of being abandoned, the relief it would bring to just… tell him. 

How real saying it out loud would make it. 

Dib’s hands returned to his own. “Let’s watch something for a while.”

Zim let out a sigh, leaning his head against the human’s arm. 

They shifted to sit next to each other, leaning against one another a bit as Dib pulled out his computer, absent mindedly flicking through channels until Zim tapped his arm to stop. 

For the first little bit, Dib was clearly keeping an eye on Zim, watching him for signs of blankness or that exhaustion that crept into his features. But his watchfulness eased the more time passed, the more often he seemed to be really present in a way he hadn’t seemed to for a while. His attention turned with renewed vigor to his work, constantly behind and always more difficult for him than seemed justified. 

He didn’t realize just how little attention he’d been paying to his environment until he finished, closing his laptop enthusiastically to notice the notebook against Zim’s legs, the Irken’s distinctive handwriting scrawled over most of the page. He was still writing in it, seeming to finish off the last sentence just as Dib looked over. 

Zim looked to him and smiled a little, turning over to a clean page and writing out another note. 

_Is Dib finished with his work?_

The human nodded, eyeing his friend carefully. Apart from looking a little shaky he looked alright, no glazed over expression or half lidded eyes. Some part of him felt like he shouldn’t say anything, just let Zim come to him in his own time. 

Another part of him remembered three days of absence, of silence, of nothing. 

“What were you writing?”

He took a while to figure out what he wanted to say, scribbling out lines, crossing out words, and just starting over more than once. 

_Dib was--_ crossed off.

 _Zim wanted--_ scribbled darkly out, almost illegible.

_Zim would like-- wanted to talk about. What happened. But needed time. I wanted the words to be. Right._

“Do you want more time?” Dib offered, “If you don’t want to do this right now--” But Zim shook his head vigorously, determination in his big bright eyes. He reached for the notebook and turned the page back, exposing a page and a half of his sharp, angular writing, messy but legible. 

Dib took it gingerly, curling up a little so that he could place the book against his knees and begin reading. 

At the same moment, they reached their hands out to each other and held on tight, one for reassurance, the other to reassure. They only exchanged a glance before Dib focused on the words in front of him. 

_I will apologize in advance for being rather, shall we say, melodramatic about these circumstances. I do not like to admit… any of this-- Zim doesn’t want to admit that this had the power to destroy him._

_On the day that you gave me that sketchbook, I went to the lab to work in it-- you’d given me an idea for a piece and I wanted to start on it before the inspiration was lost. It was going… well. In fact, I was excited to show you the next day, once I had inked and colored it._

_But obviously you know that that wasn’t how the next day went._

_I was contacted by my leaders while I was in the lab. What they said, in a way, was not dissimilar from what you had earlier that day. The polar opposite, of course, but maybe something about--_

_No, Zim is being dramatic._

_I was exiled, Dib-thing. They told me that due to incompetence, I would lose my rank, citizenship, and name. I am nothing._

_They will not come after me. It was made clear that I wasn’t even worth putting to death, that I would accomplish as much for my people on Earth for a hundred years as I did these last five. That is, nothing, I suppose._

_I cannot return home. Ever. I will never see my people again, I am not an Invader, I am not a soldier. I am not even a civilian. I have simply been removed. Unmade._

_I do not know if this will make sense to you, human. You already don’t hold my people in the highest regard-- our militaries are dangerous, often misguided, but just as you have hope for your people, I had hope for mine._

_Even before I came here I knew that what we did was wrong. My time here on Earth has only solidified that belief._

_I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to change their minds about defectives, colonialism, everything. At least, I did in theory._

_I was never certain if I would one day want to go back, try to change things. Introduce such alien concepts as empathy and sympathy to my impossible leaders. But now I will never have the chance. Many are hurting, will continue hurting. My pain is my own, but shared by innumerable people. The people whose lands they steal and claim in the name of “civilization” will suffer. And I will never have the chance to show them another way. To prove to them my worth. My right to exist._

_This is why I, for lack of a better term, shut down. My PAK took over. I retreated._

_I wasn’t really… there. I didn’t know how much time passed, I didn’t know until you were with me, on this couch three days later that it had even been long enough for you to worry._

_I am sorry to have worried you, Dib, I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, the anxiety, for everything. I am sorry for doubting you. You have proven yourself loyal many times over long before now, but it is… difficult to believe, after what has happened. I hope you understand._

Dib stared at the words in front of him, uncertain and utterly shocked. His mind raced for something-- anything to say. Anything that wouldn’t fall flat, wouldn’t sound empty and meaningless. 

What could you say to something like this? How could you comfort someone who just lost everything? Who he was, his identity, his personhood itself called into question by fools that lead his people.

There was nothing to say. Nothing came to him. 

But he couldn’t just stay quiet. 

The human squeezed Zim’s hand tightly, setting the notebook next to them on the couch. He took in the sight of his friend, head down, shoulders raised and tense, unable, not unwilling, to look at him.

Zim startled a bit as Dib took the hand already held in his own and squeezed. The familiar feel of pressure against his palms made his eyes glance to him for a moment, wide and afraid. But his gaze wasn’t met with pity. No overwhelming shame inducing pity like he was some sort of child. Only worry and understanding were in Dib’s expression, his own dark brown eyes shiny with tears. 

Dib saw the surprise in his eyes, watched as they quickly turned away from him again. He felt silly, presented with world-ending information and just staring at his best friend, pressing his fingers against his hand as though that was enough to soothe, to fix, to change. “I’m so sorry, Zim,” he finally breathed quietly, “I’m so, so sorry.” He wanted to reach out, wrap his arms around him, remind him that there was someone there for him. But he knew Zim. Grand gestures, inspiring words didn’t help. They just pushed him away, desperate to please and prove his worth-- show that he could be fixed. 

He felt as though a knife had gone through his heart. 

Dib didn’t say anything else, not even quite looking at Zim as his own hands moved, a gentle reminder. He would stay here, sit here in the quiet with him as long as he could. 

Zim’s world was falling apart. He couldn’t fix it. He just needed to stay with him as it happened, make sure he didn’t have to go through it alone. 

He would not be alone.

Dib released his hand for a moment, not missing the fearful glance that Zim shot his way for a second before he wrapped an arm around the other’s shoulders, using his free hand to take Zim’s. 

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… I- I’m here for you.”


	9. November 27th, Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELL SHELLO THERE Guess who's back!!! It me!! I have written this chapter and also the next and am currently up at *checks watch* 11:30pm on a Friday night to write the one following that, so if things go well you'll have at least three more chapters in the coming weeks and if things go Real Well I might Finish This Story. 
> 
> I apologize in advance if the writing is kinda low quality? I feel like it is, but I'm in a really weird place with how I feel about my writing rn and I'm also working on original stuff, so idk? Lemme know what you think? I really truly love each and every one of you, especially those of you who have been here since like 2018 or whatever when I first started posting this. All your kind words, praise, and encouragement has gotten me through a lot with these stupid boys and made me feel really good even about the words I shove together to try to make you cry-- which, if it makes you feel any better, I often do while writing, because I'm an absolute dweeb.
> 
> Just as a warning I do mention a) their mom dying because it's just my HC, I guess idk and b) reference their dad being a jerk to Small Gaz, so hopefully that doesn't put anyone off/take you by surprise <3

The next couple of days were… uneventful. School was stressful but no more so than usual. Dib was more determined than ever to get things figured out with Zim. The humans days were filled with abstract thoughts that he couldn't quite put together, feelings he couldn't name. 

He and Gaz ate lunch together every day, at least. There was a much needed semblance of normalcy there. Dib tried to be intentional about this time, tried to force it to make up at least a little for… well. Everything.

He told her a little about what happened, when she asked why he "looked like contents of a compost bin." She poked and prodded for information, insistent as always, but in this case, at least, he appreciated it. Something about saying it out loud made it make more sense. Especially when Gaz didn't look at him like he was nuts. 

They texted, too, of course-- Gaz still often got help with homework from him, though at this point her grades were probably better than his. But it instilled some much needed Big Brother pride. 

But it was hard, going back each day. He wanted to see Zim, of course, to be there for him. And maybe if he'd been… _upset_ it would have been easier, as horrible as it sounds. Because that would be _something_. This complete emptiness, unending, couldn't possibly be right.

The stagnation, the stillness and the silence was starting to eat away at him like rust-- like acid. 

But on this day, Dib was going to see his sister. And he refused to acknowledge, much less wallow in the aching guilt he felt for not only abandoning her, but feeling a little relieved to have some time away from Zim's house. 

He relished the walk, though, headphones keeping his ears guarded from the mid-fall chill already seeping into his fingers. Music didn't bury his thoughts so much as give them something to float on, giving them space if not a voice. He breathed, focused, tried to consider everything without forcing his thoughts into words, find a way to accept everything he felt without using up limited time on feeling it.

The sight of their front door was abnormally soothing and he hurried toward it, entering the house with the beginnings of a smile. 

Gaz wouldn't be up yet-- that's how he prefers to start their weekend, anyway, with breakfast. 

They'd started making breakfast together in the morning in high school, Dibs sophomore year, her freshman. They had finally landed firmly on the side of teaming up against their father instead of vying for scraps of affection and approval, seeking such things from each other when absolutely necessary. This was one such ritual. It was why even now, he intended to maintain it.

Dib didn't bother trying to stay too quiet, a whole floor of space keeping the sound separated from the bedrooms, not to mention the almost certainly playing orchestral versions of video game soundtracks that Gaz would die before admitting she fell asleep to. But he wasn't surprised when halfway through cooking the last batch of pancakes he heard footsteps pattering rapidly down the stairs. A grin broke out on his face in spite of everything as Gaz, still in the clothes she slept in and her hair ruffled and crumpled up so much it almost looked like it was on purpose, attempted to rush nonchalantly into the room. 

"Oh, hey, g'morning," she said as casually as she could muster through a half yawn half pant. 

"Hey, you! Sit down, how did your test go?"

"Fine," she shuffled into the chair behind the plate that he stacked with three pancakes and rolled her eyes, "You could just text me about these things, you know. That's what a phone is for."

"Well yeah, but then what would I have to ask you about at breakfast?" He retorted, making a face at her as he sat down to his own plate. 

"You always seem to come up with something."

The conversation moved like this for a while, light and teasing and blissfully normal as they ate. They talked about school and games and books and Gaz's creative endeavors, though the latter only briefly, out of embarrassment on her part. It was everything that they needed. 

"How are things going with your alien boy?" She asked as they did the dishes together. 

"Oh, uh, okay, I guess."

"Well that's a deeply non-committal answer. Got anything with a little more substance?"

Dib made an attempt at a laugh, but it came out shallow and humorless. "He'll… start feeling better. At some point. I'm sure he will." 

"No improvement at all, huh?"

"Not… really, no," he mumbled, imagining Zim sitting limply on the couch, all but powered off. "We've had a couple of good talks…?" 

"But he's not seeming any better at all?"

"I think he feels a little more… okay with not being okay, if that makes any sense," he explained as they wandered toward the living room, opting to sit on a small pile of blankets on the living room floor rather than the sofa. "He's not faking to me, at least." Gaz nodded-- she'd been there for the all but mental breakdown he'd been having over the possibility that Zim didn't trust him-- that he'd done something wrong. 

She crossed her arms "That's good. Or at least sucks less. Is it shitty to say that I feel like he should be feeling at least a little bit better? It's been almost two weeks. I'm not saying better, even, just… something."

Dib bit at his lip, not looking at her. "I felt bad about it, but… I kinda thought, maybe, yeah? Just not as barely there as the day I found him. He did only just tell me what happened-- I- I kinda thought talking about it… If he was even just sad, it’d be one thing. I understand grief, it’s this complete nothingness that I don’t know what to do with. But what am I supposed to do? I have to-- I _want_ to be there for him, I do, but…" 

Gaz was quiet for a moment, sharp eyes focused on some far away spot in the corner. When she did speak, it was in a vague sort of time, fading with the memory.

"It's sounds just like when Mom died." 

A jolt of shock shot down Dibs spine as he looked to his sister, eyes wide. "Huh?"

With a blink, she shrugged, looking oddly uncertain. "I, uh, obviously don't remember much, but I remember it feeling kinda like time had just… stopped. If that makes sense? Everything was still. Like…"

"Stagnant water?"

With a snap of her fingers she nodded, "Yep, just like that."

Dib swallowed thickly, folding his hands tight. "You're right, I think." 

"So… what can we use from that?" Prompted Gaz, looking at him through her still mussed up hair, hanging down into her eyes. For a moment Dib was struck by just how _young_ she looked. How young she was. How young _he_ was. Not even eighteen was no age to have felt like your world was falling apart twice. But he didn't feel young. He felt ancient. Only more so when he remembered just how much longer he'd probably end up continuing to live. 

Gaz was right, though. The situations were similar. The world shattering magnitude of them, the numbness that followed. She was barely old enough to understand. He was only old enough to realize what a world without her meant. To remember, if only vaguely, how much better things had been then. The whole house had this kind of stillness in it, the dust floating in the air more active than the occupants of the house. He had been lucky. In a way. Weeks afterward their father had made Gaz cry-- he didn't remember how anymore and honestly it didn't matter. All he remembered was the burning fury that carved it's way through his mind at the sight of it, bringing tingling feeling back to his mind. 

He used that anger to take care of her then-- even if they had drifted apart for a few years there. And he could use it again now. Anger has a way of getting you doing something. Burning away the nothing and meaninglessness to leave behind something more. Something better. 

"You know what you want to do?" Gaz's voice pushed him out of his thoughts suddenly, the big grin on her face telling him that she already knew what he might be thinking. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I have an idea," he replied, "But I can deal with that later-- why don't you show me that music program you were talking about earlier?"


	10. November 30th, Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATS THAT U SAY A CHAPTER WITHIN A WEEK??? WILD. Not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter itself but I hope it came out well cuz this is one of those scenes that I've had in my head for years. Thank you all for every kind thing you've said it means the absolute world to me <3 
> 
> Next chapter is already written so expect it around this time next week, or maybe earlier if I get too excited lmao.
> 
> Edit: I forgot to reformat the italics, so I fixed that.

Days seemed to pass a little more smoothly, as though harsh edges were being smoothed out with time. Zim didn't seem to improve much, but they both clung to those occasional hours that he was able to hold some kind of conversation, time when the air was warm with quiet companionship, frail as it was.

The sun was shining in through the window with a warmth more fitting to a late spring day than an early winter evening.

Dib was sprawling his work on his lap, cross-legged and hunched over his laptop, with a notebook and a calculator on top of the keyboard. It wasn’t the ideal workspace, by any means, but Zim was leaning against him, halfway curled up with his head against the boy’s arm and he wasn’t going to disturb him for something as dull as math. He was resting fairly peacefully, for once. Not simply removed from himself, but a sort of half conscious sleep as though he were tired, but still… wanted to be there.

But... math. Dib was focused on math.

Halfway through one of the last problems, he felt Zim shift, sit up a little and look around blearily. The human’s focus turned to him almost immediately. “Everything okay?”

Zim blinked, then nodded. He was completely still in a way that only someone whose brain is half computer can really be, almost like he was reconsidering something he decided on. But he made a little gesture with his hand, quickly, looking to the other with an unexpected urgency. Dib raised a hand-- the one holding his pencil-- and again the alien nodded blearily.

The whole exchange took a moment and quite a lot of shuffling around of papers, but Zim’s notebook was unearthed and given to him.

Dib made a vague sort of attempt at working through the rest of the equation, but he still hadn’t finished it when he heard the scritching of the pen stop. There was a moment before Zim handed to him where he thought he felt the other hesitate a little, but he was already reading before he could worry.

_Dib-thing can get into the lab, yes?_

The boy's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he nodded, looking to the other. "Yeah, why?"

Zim gestured loosely, moving his hand like he was writing. But when Dib tried to hand him back the notebook he shook his head, eyes narrowing with frustration. He gestured again, tensing up. His antennae moved back, like the ears of an irritated cat.

He wanted to speak. Communicating non-verbally was frustrating him to no end. Dib shoved down some frustration of his own, reaching a hand out to Zims arm and squeezing as reassuring as he could. "Take a breath." The alien seemed to wilt even more somehow, but he did, taking a moment before he pulled the notebook back toward himself and scribbled another word on it.

_Sketchbook_

“You… you want the sketchbook from the lab?” Zim nodded with more energy than he’d displayed in two weeks together, eyes almost starting to shine with life.

For a moment the boy couldn’t speak, words lost in a wave of something that almost made him cry. It was the most alive he'd been in weeks. It was like a punch to the stomach, watching him try so fucking hard.

Dib was putting his things away in an instant. "Yeah, I can get it for you, just give me one sec--" he was interrupted by a little tap on his wrist and another hurriedly scrawled note was put in front of him.

_Close it before you look!!_

Zim's face was a little flushed, big, pink eyes looking at him with absolute urgency, or not quite. Embarrassed? But in a… normal sort of way. Almost shy, but off, like he was trying to remember how to feel it. It squeezed at Dib’s heart harshly, even as he smiled, because it was _there_ , they could _see_ it and they both knew he was _trying_ , but--

It was all he could do to nod and hurry away, leaving all his work in a neat stack where he'd been sitting.

He waited impatiently for the elevator to start its descent, even as thin snakes of anxiety crawled into his already swirling head. Somehow, he didn’t understand how this could hurt so much. Why everything, but especially this felt so deeply important and at the same time so small. But this was something they could do, at least. Zim thought it might help, so he needed to find this sketchbook and hope as hard as he could that it was safe down in that wrecked lab. He could think about whys and understanding later.

As soon as the doors slid open, Dib hurried out, carefully stepping around shards of glass and damaged equipment. He kept his eyes trained on the desk just a few yards away, trying to convince his brain that he did not need to replay every sickening fear he’d had the day he’d first discovered the place like this. He hadn't noticed then, but there was one end of the desk that was undamaged. How it was possible that Zim had managed to keep his art supplies safe even under as much shock as he must have been under to gouge the metallic legs of his PAK most of the way through the wall, he had no idea, but he was grateful for it. As he approached, he turned his head a little, reaching a hand out to flip the book closed before he picked it up and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the action. Utilizing all the self control in the world, Dib managed not to rush out of the lab, glancing around for a second, taking it all in.

It had been such a safe place once. They spent at least half their time together in this room, but now just looking at it, at the way the place itself seemed to be grieving, dark and still in a way it had never been before-- it made his skin crawl.

He rushed back toward the elevator and slammed the button to go back up. As soon as the doors closed he felt himself release a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, clinging tightly to the thick sketchbook.

Zim's eyes drifted toward Dib as he walked, very intentionally, back into the room. The alien seemed to straighten a little, shifting to get a better look at the thing in the others arms. Dib smiled a little, handing the book to him as he took his place on the sofa. "It and all your other art stuff is totally fine."

Zim nodded slightly, dazedly running his hands against the paper inside. Dib almost grinned at that-- he'd spent hours agonizing in what felt like a million art supplies stores trying to find the right paper. Something kind of heavy, thick, and above all with the perfect texture. It had just seemed important. He was happy to be proven right.

If his friend's expression was anything to go by, though, he liked it. And he seemed to want to say so. To say a lot of things, in fact. His antennae were twitching erratically, his fingers tapping against the paper.

"You have the notebook," Dib reminded him gently, pushing it toward him. Zim just stared at it for a moment, almost a glare, then sighed heavily.

_Zim would like to show you the piece it was working on._

"Hell yeah," Dib replied under his breath and noticed that the alien flashed a weak smile.

_The Dib must Swear On His Life not to make fun._

Dib fought to smother a laugh, "Now I'm worried about what it is," he teased, continuing eagerly, "Of course I won't make fun of you, show me!"

Hesitantly, but in a way that told Dib that it was more for the drama of it all than any actual fear, he flipped open the book.

Dib had seen Zim's art before, bits and pieces, plus a drawing class they'd ended up taking together. But a month or so before everything fell apart, they’d been in the lab. Not doing anything in particular. Dib had found a box full of old notebooks, picked up over the half decade the alien had been on Earth and filled to the last page. They'd gone through them together, Zim looking weirdly shy and timid. Dib still thought about it sometimes and Zim, though he acted arrogant about it later on principal, seemed really pleased, in an abnormally quiet, gentle sort of way.

The first page wasn't anything remarkable if you weren't yourself an artist, or close with one. But Zim lingered to look at it for a moment. The page was full of circles, spirals, cones, and random little lines. But Dib saw it and just remembered how lucky he was to have known the other for as long as he had. The smile that tugged at his lips only grew, his nerves calming as he thought about how much even the warmups the alien did before each piece he worked on had improved-- which was absolutely wild to Dib since they were just simple little shapes. But he certainly couldn't draw even those simple little shapes so well.

But Zim turned the page eventually and turned the book to face the other, carefully watching the other’s expression. Dib’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in shock-- it was stunning.

Pale red lines, almost faded looking in how lightly they'd been sketched into existence, traced out his own silhouette. Every detail was present and shockingly real, sharp and angled lines that made it so distinctly Zim's style stood stark against the softness of the surroundings, the trees fluffy with leaves that almost seemed to move, the sun shining through vague clouds, somehow without even being colored. His coat even blew to the side a little, in a very mystery-novel-cover fashion that Dib couldn't help but fall for.

"You… drew me? Holy shit, Zim," he managed to breathe after a long moment. "How did you even do this?"

The alien smiled, not glowing with pride the way he should be-- normally would, at least-- but soaking in the praise nonetheless. Dib was only forced to tear his eyes away from the picture when a note was pushed toward him.

_Dib-thing is quite the most dramatic thing Zim has seen in the entirety of its life._

Dib laughed, "You and Gaz should start a club," he replied as Zim scribbled quickly.

_You like it?_

"It's incredible!" Zim sort of smiled crookedly, the beginnings of his inhumanly wide grin. Then he reached for the sketchbook, flexing his fingers in a grabbing-motion. Dib handed it over and watched with nothing short of glee as Zim unhooked the mechanical pencil from the back and started drawing circles in smooth motions.

“Anything I can get you?” Dib offered, softly.

Zim only shook his head, so the boy started sprawling his homework across his lap again. Suddenly he felt the alien’s three fingers gripping tightly at his hand. He turned to face him, now looking him full on in the face, meeting his eyes with a furious intensity. Zim squeezed his hand tightly for a long second, then dropped it, as though nothing had ever happened. He didn’t need to write out the words for Dib to understand-- it seemed to burn into the air around them.

 _Thanks_.

Dib positively glowed for the rest of the night.

They both remembered that for a long time afterward, clung to it the way they did every second that they passed together in what could almost be passed off as normal. When things got overwhelming they repeated it in their heads, trying desperately, in their own ways, to get things back to this place. To live their lives the way they wanted to.

It made time feel sort of elastic, stretching and shrinking based on nothing but the random chance of a ‘good day.’ Powerless to it. They knew that the healing would take time-- it was the aimlessness, the vagueness and the uncontrollable way it seemed to slip from their fingers with every moment that they thought might mark the upward slope. Or at least the existence of one.

They shared this frustration in silence, unknowing, but feeling it in the air. It only made them cling all the more.

And maybe that’s why things turn out the way they do. Maybe that’s why they make mistakes.


	11. December 9th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late!! I had it written but I got super busy with other stuff so I just didn't have time to post it and I was super nervous about it cuz!!! This is one of the other ones that I've been building up to for literally four years in my braaaaain so fingers crossed that it works!!

“Have you slept, like, at all? All week?”

 

“Says you,” Dib replied with a smile, “I’ve been waking up to texts sent at two in the morning since Friday.”

 

Gaz made a face at him, or, at least, in his general direction, since she still had her eyes focused on the game in her hands. “Sure, but I make that choice for myself,” she said pointedly, looking up from a load screen.

 

As usual, she was, pretty much, right. The boy’s eyes were a little bloodshot, the ever present bags under his eyes more lined than usual, his normally messy appearance only made worse with the trench coat he buried himself in, so thoroughly wrinkled that it could only have been slept in. Not to mention hair that was badly in need of a cut, if the way he kept running his hands through his hair meant anything. 

 

Dib seemed to pick up on the look in her eyes though and grinned sheepishly. “Well, ya know.”

 

“I don’t, actually. I was trying to give you the opportunity to talk about it, without saying those exact words in case anyone overheard and news got around.”   
  


“To  _ who _ ?” Her brother actually laughed now and she tried not to be too proud of herself. 

 

“Oh, ‘ _ ya know _ ,’” she smirked, actually taking a moment to pause her game. Dib just rolled his eyes at her sass, but he was smiling. Gaz continued. “Come on, we’ve only got twenty minutes of lunch left and I intend to question you while you tell me what’s going on.” 

 

The smile he wore fell pretty quickly, then, replaced by a gaze that wouldn’t hold her own and a line of worry in his forehead. A moment later, in a voice that seemed heavier than before he said, “It’s not any one thing. I’m not even… quite sure what it is.”

 

Gaz shrugged. “Then talk until you find it. Your words might figure out what it is before your brain does.” 

 

“I- It’s just--” he hesitated, rubbing tired, irritated eyes and burying his face in his hands. “Okay, hear me out for a second here. You know the five stages of grief?”   
  


“Uh,” Gaz squinted, trying to remember, “Yeah, I think. Denial, acceptance, depression, anger, and bargaining, right? Not in that order.” 

 

Dib nodded. “That sounds right. I’ve been thinking and I know that not everyone goes through them in the same order, for the same length of time, or even has some of them at all. I- I get that, it’s just… I feel like he’s… stuck? Stuck at denial, maybe. His brain isn’t--  _ can’t _ process what’s happened. It’s… it’s fucking awful, Gaz, watching him  _ try _ . Because he is  _ trying _ .” The boy’s voice was shaking now, every spinning worry seeming to be felt even more intensely than usual from sleep deprivation. 

 

“Slow down a sec,” Gaz muttered, her voice stable, certain. “What’s awful? What is he trying to do?” 

 

“To- to get better? I feel bad calling it that, but I’m not sure what else to say… He’s been trying to draw, trying to read, anything to get his focus back, to think about other things--” Dib cut himself off, biting at his lip. “He’s trying to pull himself out of this, he’s reaching out for help, he’s doing everything  _ right _ and I’m trying to be… there for him.” 

 

Gaz opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly, actually biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something… unfair. And unhelpful. She reminded herself, more forcefully than she would have liked, that she  _ liked _ Zim, even if they weren’t particularly close. But it was infuriating to hear Dib not-so-slowly bringing himself to the decision that it was  _ his  _ fault that his friend wasn’t getting any better. 

 

“You’re doing your best,” she finally managed, “And I’m sure Zim knows it, too.”

 

Dib nodded, “I- I think he does. I hope so.” With a shake of his head to refocus he went on. “I don’t know how to help-- I don’t know if I  _ can _ . A- And I feel like I’m being… pushy? I don’t want to rush… you know, the process,” he stammered out uncomfortably, “I just--”

 

“You want your friend back,” Gaz said simply, in a voice so devoid of judgement that she saw Dib swallow down tears and focus hard on his hands. 

 

“I do,” he admitted. “I want to make sure he’s okay and I want to help him get there, if that makes sense.” 

 

Gaz nodded her agreement. “Maybe it’d help both of you, then to  _ do _ something. Something to kinda… jumpstart him into another stage of grief?”

 

“Maybe… but what?”

 

“I dunno, he’s your friend. You know him better than me,” she said bluntly, looking at him carefully “But I know you. And if you do it, you need to be sure. You can’t worry about being pushy. If you want to try to help, if you feel like it’d help him… He trusts you. You live with him for fucks sake, you got through his weird computer brain when his actually personality vacated the premises out of shock.” The bell rang and they both jumped a little, startled. Gaz grabbed her backpack and slung it over a shoulder, confidence settled into her expression as she spoke. “If anyone can figure out how to get him out of this it’s you, Dib. You know him. Trust that and believe in his trust in you.” She paused for a second. “And don’t you dare tell him or anyone else that I said that or I’ll personally burn the shoelaces of every shoe you ever own for the rest of your life.” And with that, she walked off, placing a hand on his shoulder a little awkwardly as she passed. 

 

Dib was still lost in thought when the warning bell went off and he had to sprint to make it to class on time. Not that it mattered much-- he’d have gotten as much out of the class if he hadn’t even been there. 

  
  
  


It was mid afternoon. Zim was curled up on the couch, staring at nothing, unblinking eyes aimed vaguely at something unseen. 

 

He’d managed to do this much, at least. Time wasn’t slipping from him the way it had been. Each time he felt the cool nudge of the PAK’s system at the back of his mind trying to take over he focused harder on the present. But it was exhausting. The neverending assault on his functionality forced him to stay on guard, but trying so hard to maintain that made it difficult to do anything else. Especially when he knew that even this didn’t really… mean anything. 

 

Nothing was getting any better. 

 

Clinging to sentience was no easier, he hadn’t uttered a word in damn near a month, and the most he’d been able to do outside of just laying down numbly was draw. Zim’s eyes fell on the notebook on the opposite arm of the couch. He wanted to reach for it, wanted to let his thoughts float on symbols and shapes, but he couldn’t summon up the will. Every time he picked it up he just lost all inspiration. 

 

He was no better than the day he’d torn his lab apart without even realizing it. More present, sure, but what did that matter if even that took more energy than it was worth? 

 

But he  _ wanted _ to be better. Every day Dib walked in he wanted to do something-- to show that all this time he was putting in meant… anything. Because it meant the world to Zim. It did. But even as he tried to focus on memories, thought about silent conversations, kind gestures, he knew it couldn't be enough. And he hated himself for it. Because it should be enough. It had felt like enough once. Why couldn't it be now?

  
  
  


Class finally ended and for once Dib was the first one out the door. His backpack hung from one shoulder, still partially open as he weaved his way through the crowd, gaze pointedly downward to avoid eye contact. 

 

He didn't slow down until he managed to get outside. Cold air, dry with freeze, hit his face and he revelled in it as he took heavy steps home, hands dug deep in the pocket of his coat.

 

Some effort was made in a vague attempt to organize his thoughts. He made a list of the homework he would do, remembered that he'd need to go grocery shopping with Gaz this weekend, but this was just busy work.

 

Dib’s eyes stared, unfocused at a well memorized path, the occasional dead leaf appearing under his boots. He didn’t know what to do. Not yet. But his mind was working rapidly, searching desperately for the answer he knew had to be there  _ somewhere _ . 

 

Zim was trying, he could feel that. Frustration lined every feature, vague on an almost expressionless face, but there. The problem was that it was aimed at himself-- the  _ only _ place it had no business being aimed at. 

 

But every time it looked like things might get a little better, things fell apart again. And there didn't seem to be anything either of them could do. 

 

He was home again quicker than he realized, pulled out of his thoughts by his hand on the half frosted doorknob of Zim's house. Dib steeled himself, pushing everything aside. For now, it didn’t need to matter. What mattered was being there for him. As long as it took. 

 

Desperation seemed to permeate the atmosphere, too tired or carefully forced back to do anything, but there, summoning an unnatural tension between them. 

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. The tension seemed to tug at Dib, even as he tried to work. It felt like the slightest bit of motion on the edge of his peripherals, startling him half to death every time it seemed to twitch. It was  _ wrong _ . But there was nothing else he could do.

 

But people always say invention comes out of necessity, don't they? Just imagine what could come out of desperation. Suffocating, unbearable desperation. 

 

_ You know him. He trusts you. _

 

That's why he messed up now. Because at the end of the day, Dib was nothing but a scared teenager, willing to do whatever it took to help his best friend. 

 

His body stiffened a little and he closed his computer, finally stilling the cursor that had been blinking judgmentally at him from a blank page. 

 

"Zim." Not even an antennae twitched in response. "Zim," he tried again. When nothing continued to happen, he set his computer on the ground and pulled his legs up onto the couch as he turned to face the other, cross legged.

 

He seemed to stir a little at the motion and this time, when Dib tried to get his attention, An antenna twitched. The alien looked around for a second before he sat up uncertainty, staring at the other.

 

"Can you hear me?" 

 

Zim nodded. Dib laid out his hands in front of him, palms up. Open. The alien looked at them and Dib thought for a moment that his eyes focussed a little more, that his face held something other than vacancy.

 

Maybe it was just a bad day today-- Zim might feel better tomorrow. Any day could be the one that things started getting better. But if every day they were waiting for tomorrow, they'd only sit in this room and fester. 

 

Improvement was unpredictable, even when Zim tried everything he could to do things that made him happy, to force his mind to remember that other things mattered, it always returned to this. He couldn’t forget that he was simply… unwanted. Unwanted by the people he was  _ meant _ to serve.

 

Dib felt Zim slip slightly shaky hands into his own and held on tight. For a split second the world spun around him as he was hit with a wave of anger and stress, tears pricking at his eyes. 

 

There was nothing wrong with being stuck. But sometimes… sometimes it was good to have someone to help, right? Someone to say something to pull you out. To remind you-- 

 

" _ It doesn't fucking matter what they say _ ." 

 

Zim bristled visibly, suddenly stiff and defensive, almost out of habit. But Dib charged on, "They don't matter. They don't have the power to assign your worth, much less take it away-- you  _ know  _ that.  _ You _ make your worth. Nothing and no one else. You matter implicitly, who you are-- you  _ know _ that what they do is wrong! You've said it yourself. You've told me and you worked so--" his voice broke and he blinked hard against damp eyes. "...so hard to say it. To feel it. So what, then, if you aren't one of them?  _ Fight them _ . Show them what they've lost. Rub their stupid worthless, colonizing, brainwashed faces in what you can do because of who you are. Because of  _ what _ you are. Make them see that an exiled, defective Irken is better than they could ever dream of being."

 

They were both quiet for a moment, when Dib finished, breathing shallowly. His face burned with anger, with uncried tears. But not shame. He didn't waver, didn't apologize and back down in fear of pushing too hard. 

 

He meant every word. 

 

Suddenly he felt a little too aware of his tight grip on Zim's hands, glancing at them and back to him, loosening his chokehold. But Zim's grip tightened in an instant with inhuman strength. 

 

"Does Dib really think Zim… think I can do this?"

 

Dib thought he was hearing things for a split second before he realized that Zim had really spoken. His eyes widened and he stumbled over his next words, lifting their hands between them. "Of- of-- yeah, o- of course you can. You can do anything."

 

Zim's eyes were focused now, as sure as Dib had ever seen them. The alien clung to his words in desperate hands, latched onto it like a lifeline. And he nodded weakly, at first, like his body had gotten too used to conserving energy, then again, certain. He pulled their hands apart long enough to take them again, intertwining their mismatched fingers.

  
"Dib is right," he started in a voice rough with disuse, "I think-- No. It doesn't matter what Zim  _ thinks _ . Zim  _ will _ destroy them. I will single-handedly dismantle out-- _their_ world. I will end them with these hands. They will know fear. And they will fall."


End file.
